what of nature is eaten by the mouth of man,
      so too eats the genitalia of
woman with as much ferocious gluttonisation -
   no serpent of eden care more
for the reality that's bound to tempt the choice:
either know or be known -
     below the standard equator of the body
as the point of disembowelment and Cesarian birth...
   spewing toward a heap of two tonnes
of sardines with a stench that can't classify
**** for the scent of strawberries...
               proof of solipsism? a man sitting
on a toilet for an hour with a newspaper...
   disproof of solipsism? a man easing a **** out
on a crowded train... ****** expressions?
piquant... yonder! the lustless ******! or what
would be said when the gyroid was out of place
when anything concerning sine and cosine
      reflected the one plausible coordinate of
tangens... namely 0... so in whatever algebraic
form interweaving sine x with cosine z + + +...
you'd still get the tangens either side exponential,
and your own summary, bound to that
infamous biography of never reaching fame...
     and that myth of Atlantis and the serpent there?
  more like an octopus that fiddled and slobbered
the **** than said: of this fruit an addition
to your "natural" duality - to encourage your number,
replacing dualism with a dichotomy...
           rites of passage for the ceramically fainting skinned -
ivory and squint, then
           diddly-and-piglet-or-flamenco-skinned-squat -
wide-eyed... or listening to how the Bulgars settled
in Europe and became ethnically cleaned with
     neo-Cyrillic... or as some say: proto-Greek revisionism...
       some words are familial... i can actually attest them
a phonetic synonymous that's familiar to the ear...
but the little words... remain with origin bound,
rather intact... only nouns get ***** to assimilate...
it's the little uh huh and um and om and
      so many in between that never reach cleansing
a tongue fully...
                  to be said: kinda slavish,
             archaic ***... *** that also said:
Commodus was one of the 5 good emperors...
    and was falsely depicted in gladiator (2000)...
and the *** invented stirrups to shoot arrows with
while quickly moving and suggesting a Mongol to come
along with the perfected idea of that: and pure stink
   of forgotten hygiene... memorised by
        the inflamed library of Baghdad and the pyramid
                 of Iraqi skulls...
the Romans made use of the calvary by employing
only eunuchs in their ranks... well... given no
stirrups... you're bound to make scrambled eggs
   along the ping-pong gallop...
       could ever a modern woman become a Helen?
perhaps a yacht might sail... instead of a thousand worries
to contest her husband's pride: a thousand quid...
  but it would never be such a gesticulation for
making worth of a woman to discredit a man...
            Kant said: i'll marry, only if i marry what i am
already married to... which is a transcendence of
what a man usually is married to... a woman...
  a man can marry his work...
                  it's either:
a. arbeit macht frei... or it's
                                   b. frau macht knecht...
well... it's sad... does it matter whether it's a universal
truth that has no guiding concern for
particular applicability and therefore a non-statistical
verification that splinters off a pathos of
  idealism all too readily accepted?
          and slogans avoid the details, i.e.
a. work power free
                          work empowers toward a freedom...
     is that the irony of suggesting
                                 that the Nubians built the pyramids
    and weren't the original air-coolers with their
   duck-feather fans and that the Jews profited from this?
as in
          b. woman power slave
                   women empower toward slavery...
sure... patted on the back and constantly bridging
gaps and licking lesions of man's struggle...
                       work "sets you" free...
                      and in that "      " bubble you can also have:
sets your apart from...
       sets you against....
                                  settles... the notion of freedom...
                   sets freedom... against you...
                                     so many variations of slogan grammar...
      well, akin to the 20th century shogun snail whipping
you into: ya, mein herr...
                                   and of course, there are the lucky few
that sorta revel in what otherwise are told to do:
            let me shove that remote control up yer ***,
and i'll make it less painful... i'll smear some lard
around your **** and you start pampering a bottle
of johnson & johnson baby powder...
      for a quest into averting the extinction of snow.

You know, there's been a lot of talk about identity
What parts you have your skin tone whether or not you're the heir to a throne what's wrong with us? Why are we so fixated on division and not inclusion? We're not all Tom Clancy but can you answer me this... why is the word division even in our language? Why can't we transition from an ice cube tray to a melting *** is why this was written?
Can we as one act as one? Love as one? Protect as one before we divide ourselves from 0 and become irrational? Or can we get on one accord and work for the betterment of us all?

By: Cedric McClester

He’s my consolation
And he might be my end
You see me and John Barleycorn
Are the best of friends
I have to turn to someone
When my long day ends
And so me and John Barleycorn
Are the best of friends

Some people say be careful
Cos he packs quite a kick
And others say – watch out
Cos he can make you sick

But he’s always there
Time and time again
When I need a pick me up
I can count on him
Ya see he never fails me
I’m telling you my friend
I just have to raise my glass
And all my problems end

(Chorus)
Some people say be careful
Cos he packs quite a kick
And others say – watch out
Cos he can make you sick

I’m aware of the danger
That our friendship poses
But here’s the thing I feel
That nobody knows is
All the comfort I derive
From him being there
He has the ability
To take away despair

Some people say be careful
Cos he packs quite a kick
And others say – watch out
Cos he can make you sick

I know that they talk about us
They do it all the time
But us being the best of friends
Hardly is a crime
It’s a special relationship
That we happen to enjoy
And I’m just being candid
Instead of being coy

Some people say be careful
Cos he packs quite a kick
And others say – watch out
Cos he can make you sick

He’s my consolation
And he might be my end
You see me and John Barleycorn
Are the best of friends
I have to turn to someone
When my long day ends
And so me and John Barleycorn
Are the best of friends

If you ache in every bone
You just want to be alone
You toss and turn
You're sick and weak
All you want to do is sleep
Your favorite color becomes blue

Then you have emotional flu

If your muscles atrophy
And you are in apathy
You can't work up strength to eat
You are a wound from head to feet
Nothing's fresh & little new
Of pick-me-up's? You have so few!
It can affect both me & you

The bane of man... emotional flu


:-(

You are not from this time
I am not from this place
but if time would be place
I would sit across you again
on a lucid carpet and play the games

like a maze
born from your smile
and assigned to me
as yogas

‘for the Play!’
as you would always say

If time would be place
I would become the dance –
particles mingling you to me
we would pass through each other
and heave this universe

just as I have become the light reflection
shining reverse in your pupil
one of on that vase which you've always observed
unmoving
and
without any prejudgment
analyzing breathless what it really is

maybe not so much different than the self
learning the essence from the self
without words

true knowledge remains in the body of experience only
like a mantra

what makes the eye is what sees the eye
the key is well preserved Timelessly in love

---

Just as I know moments your thoughts connect to me
Just as I can become your skin again and again
experience this world through your breath

and teach your hunger a lesson

It does not help hiding you through my psoas
if I press the big toes and as the diaphragm falls
these muscles wherein you hide stretch
and O dear one
subtle is the skin we share
through which fingers can pass
not dense – not dense at all!
like any universe born and witnessed by inspiration

and like a sea-squirt I can then digest anything that is past tense

and that’s exactly how I became a raven today
balancing on the thinnest and highest branch of a maple
even a sparrow wouldn't dare
but the gaze of inspiration

Only to see your form one more time
Standing there at the window from a past
Watching the park

You know
It is needless to ask
How

It is not the mind that can answer
neither waves of any sort
Yes you already know

You
immersed in an unmoving gaze
For generations
At different places
In different bodies
Having monumentalized the eagle’s eye
Should know!

because
Immeasurable remains the thingless to things
and Inspiration as it were

By: Cedric McClester

Though it may not appear
That you are what they fear
And it may not seem
Like it’s low self-esteem
Look a little closer
And you’ll often find
That’s what’s behind
A hate-filled mind

They try to act superior
While feelin’ quite inferior
Ya don’t havta state it if it’s a fact
They’re only projecting what they feel they lack
Look a little closer
And you’ll often find
That’s what’s behind
A hate-filled mind

They’re just frightened people
That’s all that they are
Yet that doesn’t stop ‘em
From baring the scar
Of their hate-filled actions
Fueled by their bigotry
Although frightened people
Is what they well may be

Hateful actions and the rhetoric
Of a minor few who are clearly sick
Permeates the atmosphere
You can find it everywhere
But look a little closer
And you’ll often find
That’s what’s behind
A hate-filled mind


Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.